Alone at christmas!
by EscapedYesterday
Summary: That just isn't right' - Alfred F Jones. Based around the snow fall in the UK Christmas 2009. UsUk. Rating might go up.


Snow fell all over the British Isles that December day, it had been throwing the cold substance down for the past week or so. Transport in and out of the country was shut, airports claimed it was too icy for them to move, train stations had shut due to fact that you couldn't see the tracks for the snow that was piled on top of them.

As the, what seemed to be, blizzard continued to rage you would've thought no 'sane' human being would have been walking around but believe it or not a young man in his early twenties was trudging through the picturesque setting. His blonde hair poking out at odd angles as he buried his face in his scarf in an attempt to stay warm. It didn't seem to be working seeing as his whole body was shaking. With his hands stuffed into his pockets he looked up, green eyes looking dull and tired, which wasn't helped by the large, black bags that were underneath them.

Sighing heavily he finally reached a large building. Pulling out his right hand from the pocket in which it had been taking residence he opened it and in the palm sat a small old-fashioned key. Smiling weakly he took it in his other hand and pushed it into the door's keyhole. With a small 'clunk' the door swung open to reveal a large and richly furnished hallway in which paintings hung and seemingly ancient bookcases leant against walls heaving with leather bound volumes. Shutting the door behind him he slumped down leaning against it and shut his eyes.

After several minutes of sitting with his eyes shut and trying to warm himself he pushed himself up from the floor and slowly took off his coat. Looking down he noticed that the rain had seeped through to his shirt. Rubbing his head shakily he decided he didn't really care and made his way into the living room, after taking off the rest of his outside clothing and leaving them by the coat hanging next to the door. Looking around lazily he saw the fire was only just alive. Cursing he ran towards it and placed pieces of kindling carefully onto the fire so he wouldn't choke it. Eventually the fire began to splutter and burst into life again, crackling happily.

Rubbing his forehead with his now ashen hands he stood and stumbled. Grumbling under his breath he made his way over to the sofa and basically fell into it face first. Staring at the fire with his eyes already half shut he began to drift off into a cold, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Whilst that was happening on the other side of the world a young Americans day couldn't have been better. Not that his days weren't normally amazing, in his opinion anyway. Chuckling to himself he walked into his kitchen and reached into his fridge to pull out a microwave-able hamburger which he then placed into the microwave whilst humming the American national anthem to himself. His blonde hair was tidy, apart from one small flick, which stuck out and bounced around whenever he moved.

"The cold is nothing to a hero!" He said loudly to himself with a stupidly large grin on his face, which seemed to slip away when he looked out of the glass doors and out into his garden. Shuddering he rubbed his arms to comfort himself.

Behind him came the only too familiar 'PING' of the microwave. Leaping for joy he pounced onto the machine pulling the door open eagerly before stuffing the burger into his mouth and munching contentedly on it. To say the least it didn't take long for the food to vanish. Pouting at his empty hands he reached out towards the fridge handle again but stopped as he heard his laptop shout;

"Email! Email! The hero has mail!"

Blinking he made his way through to the T.V room where it sat screaming at him. Leaping over the back of the sofa he sat down on it and opened up the mail. Raising an eyebrow.

"Francis….?" He said, completely puzzled as to why the Frenchman was contacting him.

'That stupide _L'Anglais_! 'Im and 'is _déchets_ transport! _Mon_ people _est_ stuck in 'is country! 'E blames _le_ weather! PAH! I SPIT ON 'IS _TEMPS_!'

Staring at the e-mails contents it took a while for the message to sink in. Eyes widening he stared in horror at what he saw before him.

"A-alone?… At Christmas?! That's just not right!!!"

Standing up the American clenched his hands into fists and thrust one up into the air.

"A HERO NEVER LETS ANOTHER SUFFER," He shouted to himself whilst placing his other hand on his hip. "HERE I COME ENGLAND!!!"

Running from the room he picked up his mobile and called his supervisor informing him of what he was about to do.

* * *

No matter how many times his supervisor had tried to tell him not to take the treacherous trip to the UK but standing his ground the American had told him he was going whether they liked it or not. So he'd gone even though they were against the idea. Hours passed until the excited man saw the white cliffs of Dover, or what he guessed were the White Cliffs of Dover. It was hard to tell seeing as the whole of the ground was covered in snow. Staring at the scene below his jaw dropped.

"W-woah….. I'm sure the old Scone will be glad to have some company"

He hadn't quite believed Francis that it was as bad as he'd made out, but now he realised that the British Isles really were completely and utterly isolated from the rest of civilisation. Half an hour or so later the plane landed and the American ran down the steps only to stop and walk straight back in shivering. Taking a deep breath he gritted his teeth and walked back out, ready for the cold this time. After picking up his bags from the luggage area he made his way to the Mens to get changed into a more suitable attire.

Doing his coat up before exiting the terminal he held onto his bag tightly and walked outside and straight into the taxi that had been waiting for the past 20 minutes for him to get changed.

Finally reaching the large house in which the British male had entered hours before he looked up at the building and grinned.

"Ready or not here I come sconey~" He sang childishly before turning and taking his bag out of the taxi.

He seemed to have forgotten he hadn't sent any kind of message to warn the Englishman of the company he was going to be having. Which was just as well because the other male didn't want any company at this moment in time and would have only had a hissy fit. Whistling to himself the blonde American wheeled his luggage to the door, stopping in front of it and knocking.

* * *

Hearing the noise made the man inside jump and slip off of the sofa. Groaning he sat upright holding his head in his hands, legs crossed. Looking up he stared in the direction of the door wondering who the hell would be so desperate to talk to him that they'd come out in this. The knocking continued, shortly followed by shouts of "ARTHURRRRR, IT'S ALFREDDDDDD~ THE HERO IS HERE TO SAVE YOU!" which merely made the man flinch and hit his head against the nearest solid object he could find.


End file.
